


You Really Are Art

by GoDownWithThisShip



Series: homo on the range [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom Arthur, Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, Exhibitionism, Finally a fem top, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoDownWithThisShip/pseuds/GoDownWithThisShip
Summary: No spoilers for the main story in the game. Some spoilers for Charles' stranger mission I guess but like....not life changing.Charles convinces Arthur to come back to his hotel room. Sex ensues. I literally wrote this in like 20 minutes sue me.





	You Really Are Art

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway this is literally the MOST self indulgent shit I have ever written. Arthur is a BOTTOM. And there are so few fics of him being the gay cowboy we all know he is. So I had to roll up my damn sleeves and write some shit myself. Apologies in advance. Also enjoy

The hotel’s sheets are softer than any he has ever felt before and the light of the lazy, southern afternoon filters in through lace curtains. He’s naked as the day he was born as he squirms under the artist’s critical eye. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he ran into Charles again on the crowded streets of Saint Denis. But, the clever man convinced him to join him for work on a little project. Little did Arthur know that he was going to be the subject of said project.

 

In the present he awkwardly shifts, trying to hide the fact that he’s half hard over nothing. But Charles snaps at him from behind his easel. “No! We want to capture you in your most natural state! Remember?” His french accent is thicker than a midnight fog rolling into the bayou and Arthur groans.

 

“Spread out over some expensive sheets in a fancy hotel isn’t  _ exactly  _ my natural state,” Arthur points out.

 

“Ah. Of course. I forgot you prefer to fuck in  _ ze  _ dirt.”

 

“Hey” Arthur snaps. Anyone else were to make that comment and they would find themselves stuck on the bad end of his hunting knife. But he likes Charles. Even if Charles is forward and... _ foreign _ . But Charles has a life inside him that is hard to come by these days. Not to mention if his silver tongue could talk Arthur into this...what  _ else  _ could it do?

 

“Sorry!” Charles holds up a hand, his paintbrush still balanced between his fingers. “You prefer to  _ get  _ fucked in  _ ze  _ dirt.”

 

Arthur sits up. It’s not anger in his voice when he growls at the artist. No- it’s frustration. Because when he accepted Charles’ coy offer to come back to his hotel room he was expecting something to  _ happen  _ not to get teased for half an hour. 

 

Charles rolls his eyes and strides over in his graceful manner. “You are so stubborn,” he scolds, but his voice is low and it ignites a fresh heat in the pit of Arthur’s stomach. “And yet you have been so patient.” Charles cups the side of Arthur’s face and Arthur can’t help but lean into it. Because God damn it’s been a while since someone has touched him. “How about you show me your good side, hmm?”

 

“What? Jesus- this better not be more painting shit.”

 

Charles shakes his head. “No, no. I assure you this is entirely self indulgent. Now, if you please.  _ Roll over _ .”

 

The command sends a shiver down Arthur’s spine and he obeys, rolling over onto his stomach. He can’t imagine he looks very good from this angle but the gentle friction of the bed against his cock is enough to cause him to exhale. “Hands and knees, s’il vous plait.” It doesn’t hold the same danger as his earlier command and Arthur hesitates for a moment. Charles sets a firm hand on Arthur’s ass. “Do not make me get rough with you, mon ami.”

 

Arthur considers for a moment how he might just enjoy that a hellova lot more but he held his tongue and obeyed. Again, feeling absolutely exposed. He can already feel the flush creeping down from his cheeks. Charles mutters something in French that Arthur can’t quite make out and then suddenly there are firm fingers spreading his ass open and he feels a warm, wet sensation circling his asshole and he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

 

“What the  _ hell- _ ”

 

Charles stops and pulls back. “Oh, my apologies. I was under the impression everyone enjoyed-”

 

Arthur cuts him off because God...he doesn’t want Charles to stop. “No! I do like it! It’s just...different,” he finishes lamely. 

 

Without missing a beat Charles begins again, teasing him at first. But soon, his entire mouth is working, licking. The noises are obscene and then all at once there’s the familiar press of a finger and Arthur can’t help himself. He moans loudly, letting his face fall into the soft sheets as he arches back, forcing Charles’ second knuckle to slip in.

 

Charles’ fingertip finds that spot inside him that makes electricity shoot up his spine and he can barely form words, “Charles, please. God damnit.” His words are muffled by the bed.

 

“What is that?” He can hear the smile in Charles’ voice as he slides another finger inside.

 

“I need-” Arthur can’t finish his sentence because Charles decided to pick up his pace. Arthur can feel the stretch and it is dizzying. “I need-”

 

“What do you need?” He swears Charles sounds smug.

 

Arthur doesn’t want to swallow his pride but the feeling of Charles’ fingers sliding slickly inside of him forces him to. “I need you to fuck me.”

 

Charles chuckles. “Where are your manners?”

 

“You know I don’t got any,” Arthur groans.

 

Charles removes his fingers suddenly. “Then you don’t get  _ fucked _ .”

 

“Jesus Christ. Are you serious?” Arthur pushes himself up to his elbows to look back at Charles who is rummaging through the bedside table. 

 

“Say please.” Charles produces what Arthur can only imagine is the fanciest looking bottle of slick he’s ever seen.

 

He chews his lower lip, debating on how low he wants to sink today. “Please?” he replies through gritted teeth. 

 

This earns him a bright smile from Charles. “Excellent, now, feet on the floor.”

 

The bed is high enough off the ground that Arthur can comfortably plant his feet on the hardwood floor and bend over it. A moment later he feels hot, slick fingers once more. “C’mon. I’m ready enough,” he mutters. 

 

“That may be how things work out there in the  _ dirt _ but in  _ here  _ we take our time,” Charles chides. But, before Arthur can protest the fingers are gone and he can feel Charles lining up his cock. Arthur subconsciously holds his breath as Charles slowly slides in. Gentle, shallow thrusts at first as if to test the waters. Then, deeper thrusts. Charles maintains a slow pace as he thrusts deeper and deeper until Arthur can feel the press of his hips against him.

 

Arthur exhales and there’s a firm hand on his hip. “You really are art, you know.” Charles’ voice is low and gravelly. “ _ Fucking  _ art.”

 

“Shut up and  _ fuck  _ me.” Arthur rolls his eyes because he doesn’t buy that shit for a second. The guy already has him. Hell, Arthur has wanted this for a while now. There’s no need to be sweet talking and bullshitting like that.

 

“As you wish.” The pace Charles takes is fast and the snap of his hips is brutal. He keeps on hand firmly planted on Arthur’s waist while the other grips one of the bed’s posts for leverage. Arthur buries his face in the sheets again this time to stifle the awful noises he’s making. 

 

But his moans and pants are nothing compared to the filth coming out of Charles’ mouth. Most of it is in french but from what little English Arthur can make out Charles is close. “I want to paint your back,” Charles moans. “Let me come on your back.”

 

If Arthur wasn’t so close himself just from the way Charles’ cock hit that good spot and the way he was grinding his own cock into the mattress he would have commented on how flattering it was to have someone ask first. But instead all that tumbles from his lips is “God, yes.”

 

* * *

  
  


Charles has a gallery showing a few weeks later and Arthur finds himself wandering in. He doesn’t know what he is expecting from the exhibit but he does notice that one of the paintings bears a striking resemblance to him bent over a hotel bed, stretched, and blissed out from being fucked to oblivion.

 


End file.
